


Patience

by Titti



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-11-25
Updated: 2005-11-25
Packaged: 2017-12-15 21:53:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/854433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Titti/pseuds/Titti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chase watches House deal with Stacy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patience

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: 14 at House Rareathon (http://www.livejournal.com/community/houserareathon/3258.html). But I would have you know that all is not well  
> With a man dead set to ignore  
> The endless repetitions of his own murmurous blood.  
> \--Anthony Hecht

You sit in the office, chewing on the top of a pencil, trying to do a new crossword puzzle, but your interest is elsewhere. Your eyes keep going to House's office, where the man is talking - more like flirting - with Stacy.

Stacy. God, you hate the name. Ms. Lawyer never uses her last name; she probably doesn't want to remind anyone that she's married. To someone who isn't House.

She's standing really close, closer than it's proper for a married woman talking to her ex. She has that coy smile on her face, and her hands keep finding their way to House's shirt, smoothing it even though there are no wrinkles.

"A man might forget you're married," House says a little too loudly. You wonder if he knows you're listening and the words are directed at you.

She laughs, and her crystalline laughter travels all the way to you. God, you really hate the woman. It's not jealousy, of course. No, it's self-preservation, because after every bloody meeting with her, House gets weird, weirder than usual. You're just looking out for yourself. That's all.

"I have to go. I'll... I'll see you later." She stands a little too long, with her hand over his chest before stepping back and leaving.

House watches her go, before limping his way to where you are. He pulls the crossword puzzle from your hand. "I don't pay you to enjoy yourself," he growls.

You resist the urge to point out that House doesn't pay you at all, but it's the hospital paying all of you to sit around until House decides that there is a case worthy enough for him to consider. You sigh. This is going to be another shitty day.

~*~*~*~

The days pass one after the other, but the scenery doesn't change. Oh, there are variations. Some days, the meetings are happier; some days, they are less happy, but regardless, when Stacy leaves, House's mood is always shite.

You look at them again. House is smiling, and you sigh. You turn around and watch your co-workers. "Don't you think he's acting strange lately?"

Foreman scoffs. "You mean unlikely the times he was acting strange *in the past*?"

"No, I mean..." What can you say? That you've been watching, and you've caught him laugh and smile; that you've seen him content and relaxed; that the next minute he's turned cold and distant. You stare through the glass wall separating you, and shake your head. "I don't know, but it's different."

Cameron puts a hand on your arm. She looks at you with sad eyes, the same look she gives patients when delivering bad news. You want to gouge her eyes out. "He's just going through a bad time," she says softly. "Give him time."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? It's not like you care about him. You just want things to go back to normal. You want to see House snap at people for real reasons, and not because of Ms. Lawyer. It's not like House can't find good reasons for insulting people. He's a specialist at that.

This is not personal at all. Maybe if you keep telling yourself that, you'll start believing it, even if Cameron doesn't seem to believe it.

~*~*~*~

The day is finally over. You've managed to make it through it without screwing up, or yelling at House, which qualifies as screwing up as well. You reach the lobby before you realise that you forgot your car keys.

Going back up is more tiring than it should be. You want to leave the hospital behind, if only for a few hours, but you can't escape without your keys.

You get back in time to see them. They are in House's office, blinds forgotten in another sign of arrogance from House. He's sitting in his chair, swirling his cane in his fingers with ease. She's standing in front of him, hands on her hips, and she looks like she's ready to strangle him. It's a sentiment you know well.

"You think the world revolves around you," Stacy spits out. "Well, it doesn't."

"We all know your world revolves around your perfectly acceptable, politically correct husband," House answers with a smirk.

"You know what? I really hate you." She means it; you can hear it in her voice.

She leaves in a huff, and you can hear House's reply very clearly as the door opens. "Newsflash: everyone who knows me hates me."

You snort. Never let it be said that House is at a loss for words, but then you truly look at him, and the smirk is gone, so are all the masks that he puts up around people. You want to go after Stacy, and... you're not sure what you want to do to her. The fact is that you rely on House being a sodding git. You hate seeing him as human. As long as he keeps those bloody masks up, you can continue to hate him. Maybe you should tell Stacy, and she'll learn not to destroy his barriers.

The change happens before your eyes. The tension is back in place, and the cane starts twirling again, and the world is right again as House calls out to you. "Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

You smile to yourself, before you walk in. "I do, but I require my keys, which I left somewhere around here."

You wait for the sarcastic comment, but he simply nods, and your anger boils inside you once more. He's not allowed to dismiss you so easily. He's supposed to notice that you've been distracted and tell you that you don't get paid for daydreaming. He's supposed to comment on how much time you're spending around him and have developed a crush on him. He needs to make those comments, because when he does, you can dismiss them as absurd.

"You won't find them staring at me."

Not exactly an acerbic comment, but if you stand long enough, you'll annoy him enough to get his full attention.

He finally sighs exasperated. "If you keep thinking so much, you're pretty head will explode, and wouldn't that be a shame? I'd have to start interviewing again."

Bingo! You actually smile at that. "So after the pretty mouth, I have a pretty head."

"Don't go there," he hisses.

If you weren't so off balance, you'd probably shut the hell up, but after the few weeks, you can't stay quiet. "Me? I'm not the one who keeps going there. Should I recite all the times you've made sexual reference directed at me? Because I can."

"Gee, and you still haven't sued me. Are you looking for a prize? Employee of the month? Tenure? Teaching position. No, wait, I know: a parking spot right in front of the door."

You shrug. "Tenure would be nice, but the parking spot would be much better."

He smiles at that. "At least you have your priority straight."

Then the awkward silence returns. You try to think of something, but it's useless, because you need House's lead, even when it comes to discussions. "I'd better look for my keys."

Another nod, and you're dismissed without thought. It doesn't take long to find the keys, long enough to be upset again. Stacy shouldn't be able to do this to him, she shouldn't manage to turn him inside out, because... "I thought you were smarter than that," you say, violating the sanctity of his office.

"Of course, I'm smart. I'm a genius." His hand goes into his pocket, and you're not surprised when he pulls the vial of Vicodin. He pops two in his mouth and swallows. "I think I need a little pick me up for this discussion, don't you?"

It's crap, and you both know. He likes to joke about his addiction to Vicodin, but after two years working at the hospital, you know that he doesn't use the pills as an emotional crutch. He just likes people to think he does.

"What is that it's heavily on your mind, Chase? I notice the new nurse isn't as cute as the other one, but I'm not sure we can convince the board to hire only nurses who look like models."

"Stacy," you blurt out.

"Stacy?"

"Stacy."

"I think I know her name," he snaps. "Would you care to tell me what are you talking about? While you're at it, explain how it's any of your business?"

"It's not... except it is, because I work for you, and she makes you miserable, and you're making us miserable-"

"I always make everyone miserable," House tells you. "It's part of my job on this earth, or haven't you noticed?"

You move closer, crouching in front of him, because you hate the fact that he's looking up at you. Even as you put your hand on his knee, you know that this is a giamongous (as House would say) bad idea. He really doesn't need more ammunition against you, but it's still not enough to stop you. "This is different. She makes *you* miserable. Even when you two aren't fighting, you're still unhappy, because you must know that she shan't leave her husband. You must stop doing that to yourself."

House snorts. "You know me so well, I'm impressed," he says sarcastically. "Would you like to tell me what I must do as well or I can make my own decisions?" He leans forward, his body tense with anger. "I'm not your father. You're not going to help me find the perfect relationship, create the perfect family. You couldn't even do that with your family."

It hurts, but the sharper the comment, the more proof that you've gotten close to the truth. "I don't think you're my father." You support the statement with the only proof you have. You close the gap, and press your lips against his for a mere second, before pulling back.

You look down at the floor refusing to meet the anger and disgust that must be there. "For two years, I've ignored what I feel," you whisper. "I tried to convince myself that it was only respect, admiration, but the truth is that I hate seeing you hurt." You finally look up to him. There is no anger in his blue eyes, only amusement and curiosity. "You can fire me," you continue, "or not, but I needed you to know that I care."

"So this wasn't about me feeling better, but about you feeling better." You look at him, and his amusement is clear on his face. "Well, then, that makes it completely all right, because for a moment, I feared you wanted to pick up where Cameron has left off."

"Nah, she wanted to change you. I want to shag you," you say, grinning, and you'll pay for this. Maybe not now, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually.

His blue eyes drill into you as the amusement is turns into something else, something you can't quite read. "Go home," he says gravely.

You ignore the pain at the rejection, and nod. "I'll see you tomorrow." You reach the outer door when he calls your name." You turn, a hand still on the handle. "Yes?"

"I'm a complicated man, Chase. People get tired of me."

You nod. "That's okay, because I'm a very patient man." You smile, and finally leave. You don't know what will happen with House, and for once you don't worry, because for the first time in two years, you've not ignored the endless repetitions of your own murmurous blood.


End file.
